


Drove Through Ghosts to Get Here

by icywind



Series: The Best Game You Can Name [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint. Barney. A late night visit and an early morning breakfast. </p>
<p>Sometimes you just need someone who understands you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drove Through Ghosts to Get Here

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is fic is fifth in the series. But, with Hawkeye 15 out tomorrow I wanted to get it posted before Fraction does his thing with the brothers. Absolutely nothing in that will affect my version of their relationship in this universe, but, I’ll feel better with this up prior to that. It’s a thing. Considering that this is a pretty light series for the most part, there aren’t any spoilers for the two fics we’re skipping. 
> 
> For many years the NHL had the tradition of road roommates. In this verse, on road trips, Bruce and Clint room together.
> 
>  
> 
> Once more, a million and one thanks to [phae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae) for the beta-read and just generally being awesome.

Clint blinked muzzily, reaching out and groping for his phone in the darkness. Bruce turned in his sleep a few feet away just as Clint grabbed the phone and got a look at the number.

Barney.

He threw the covers off and shuffled over to the bathroom, thumbing the phone on as he shut the door.

“Barn?”

Nothing. Just breathing. Clint sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Barney?”

“M’in the lobby. Can I…?”

“Yeah…yeah sure.”

Bruce was sitting up, blinking owlishly at Clint when he emerged from the bathroom. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to wake you,” he said as he snagged last night’s t-shirt from the foot of his bed and pulled it on.

“Everything okay?” Bruce yawned.

“Maybe?” Okay, yeah, that hadn’t come out the way he’d wanted. “Just uh…we’ll be quiet…you can go back to sleep.”

“We’ll?” It took a second, then Bruce’s face scrunched up. “Barney?”

“Yeah.”

“Hope everything’s okay,” Bruce said, flopping back against his bed. He was pulling the covers back over his head when Clint half-whispered ‘me too’ and made his way towards the main room of their suite. A hesitant knock sounded against the door just as he was turning on a dim table lamp and, with a tired sigh to steel himself, he opened it. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby brother,” Barney replied, and Clint had maybe five seconds to get a good look at him before he was pulled into a crushing hug that knocked the breath out of him. There was an awkward moment when Clint startled and couldn’t move, but then he recovered enough to wrap his arms around Barney – who let out a shaky breath and squeezed even tighter.

Ah. Okay then. 

“C’mon in, I’ll make some shitty tea or something,” he said after a few moments had passed and Barney didn’t seem any more likely to let him go or even move at all.

“Bad case, huh?” Clint asked quietly a few minutes later as he sat on the couch next to Barney, two cups of tea set on the table next to them. Barney’s eyes had been on him the entire time he’d moved around, heating the water and grabbing the tea and cups. 

“Abuse case. With kids.”

Yeah…he’d kind of figured that one out by Barney’s reaction. 

“The youngest was five. Blonde shaggy hair.” A ragged breath. “God, Clint – he looked so much like you did at that age,” Barney’s face cycled through several different expressions. He didn’t cry, but Clint recognized it was a close thing. Barney cleared his throat. “He had an older brother, eight, and a sister, twelve. You could tell they tried to protect him, but…” He grasped at the hand Clint offered, clutching at it, desperate, and if his fingers maybe strayed up onto Clint’s forearm to run lightly over a spot where they both knew his arm had been broken at around that age (not for the first time) neither of them said anything. 

“You should call Mike,” Clint said quietly. Whenever baggage from their shitty fucking childhood came up, he knew he always felt better after a talk with their adoptive father. He didn’t know how Mike knew what to say; only that he did. Somehow he’d managed to have parental instincts when their biological father hadn’t. “Or Danya,” because Barney was closer to their adoptive mother, maybe he’d have an easier time talking to her about it.

“Haven’t had time. Case just wrapped up like an hour ago.” That seemed to snap Barney out of his little fog. “Shit, sorry, it’s stupidly fucking late, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” Clint shook his head, even after looking at the bright blue 1:15 on the clock. “You needed to see me, I get it. It’s cool.” And it was cool. If all Clint had to do was sit there so Barney could see and reaffirm in his head that he was okay, he’d gladly do so; even if he ended up being up all night. Clint knew Barney carried around emotional baggage that he hadn’t been able to protect Clint more from their father or a few of the situations they’d been in in foster care. Never mind the fact that he had been a child himself for most of that time as well; and that he had gotten Clint and himself out as soon as he could. (Not soon enough, in Barney’s mind.) 

“You know, had you not been in town I would’ve gone right home.”

“And probably woke me up with a call.” And he would’ve gladly breathed into the phone for an hour if it helped Barney somehow. 

“Probably,” Barney agreed with an attempt at a smile.

“Lauren knows you’re here?”

“Yeah, I texted her. She and the kids are looking forward to lunch by the way.”

“Me too,” Clint smiled in reply. The initial worst of it seemed to be passing. Soon enough, Barney’d be crashing. “How about you grab your go bag from your car while I set up the sleeper bed. Breakfast is on me tomorrow, but you owe me a Duffeyroll or three now.”

“Yeah yeah…and risk the wrath of your nutritionist? You’ll get one.”

“Two. C’mon man, the holidays are coming up. Have a heart.”

“One today and a duo of minis with breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

“Done deal,” Clint grinned. He was pretty sure his sister-in-law would get him a box of the minis as well. She was a sucker for that Barton Boy charm. “You’re my favorite big brother, you know.”

“I’m your only big brother,” Barney rolled his eyes, but his voice was fond – as was the hair tousling he gave Clint as they both got up.

~~~

The following morning Clint emerged from the bedroom to find Barney and Bruce seated at the table, heads tucked together and speaking in hushed tones. He hung back a bit, figuring Bruce was just adding his own brand of soothing consolation. He was, after all, a member of the ‘shitty abusive fathers’ club as well. They separated and Bruce offered Barney a final pat to the shoulder.

“I’m going to go make sure Tony doesn’t OD on bacon.”

“I thought Steve was in charge this trip?”

“We switched, he gets the Canada trip in December,” Bruce replied before ducking out the door.

“Sleep okay?” Clint asked as Barney pulled a flannel shirt on over the t-shirt he must have tossed on post-shower.

“Better than I would have. Thanks again, kiddo.”

“How many times…” Clint launched into a well familiar patter of younger sibling griping as they made their way downstairs. They were early; Woo and Quartermain were in one corner of the room while Bruce and Rhodey had a vaguely awake Tony with them in another. 

A few other members of the team and staff trickled in here and there as they ate; one or two nodding a hello to Barney in addition to Clint, his face not unfamiliar to anyone who’d been on the team a few years. Steve shook his hand warmly, as he always did, and apologized for interrupting their breakfast after doing so. 

Steve was kind of ridiculous. Clint figured he could out-polite a Canadian.

He was about to share that little joke with his brother when another shadow fell over the table. Coach Coulson’s. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced. Phil Coulson.” He held his hand out to Barney.

“Barney Barton.” 

His brother’s handshake looked firm and his lips pursed together in a vaguely friendly manner. Clint had to fight not to roll his eyes as the two exchanged small talk, because really? Barney was really going to pull the gruff act here? Coulson wasn’t even interested in him.

“I don’t know how you normally handle things within your team, but, it’s my fault if Clint is a little tired today at practice. I had a rough day yesterday and I needed to see a friendly face. He might have lost a little shut eye because of me. So, uh, don’t be too hard on him.”

“Is that so?” Coulson’s eyes traveled back and forth between the two as Clint inwardly boggled. “Alright. No more than the usual then.”

“Would you care to join us?”

“No, thank you. I have a strategy session with Sitwell. You two enjoy the rest of your meal though.”

Clint watched Barney watch Coulson walk away. 

“So that’s they guy huh?” Barney asked, brows raised. 

What?

“What?”

“That’s the guy you’ve had a thing for for years? Really?” Barney glanced over, completely unsubtle (Clint could never see him working undercover.) “He’s just so…plain.”

“He is not plain, and yes and…I really…”

“I mean, I don’t really swing that way, but I could totally see if you had a thing for Steve…”

“Oh my God, we are not having this conversation.” Clint could feel his face heating up and he hoped Coulson wasn’t looking over. “I swear, you’re just doing this to embarrass me.”

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re horrible.”

“And yet, I am your favorite brother.”

Clint narrowed his eyes, but grinned as Barney turned the old joke around on him. 

“I’m going to discuss this with Mike, I think.”

Clint narrowed his eyes again, not smiling this time. “Do not tell dad.”

“It’s cute that you think they don’t know,” Barney replied, sipping his coffee. “Baby brother, when you’re that far gone on someone it’s like a damn beacon with the people that know you.”

“I’m not…gone on him, s’just a crush,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the fruit bowl in front of him. 

“Sure it is. And the fact that some psychologists think that crushes only last about four to six months means nothing.” Barney looked a little smug as he took a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t…” he huffed a sigh. It had to be a crush, an infatuation, because you didn’t fall in love with people with whom you only had maybe a few weeks of contact (at most) with each year for several years. He admired Coulson, was attracted to him, but it wasn’t anything more than that. And yes, everyone could totally tell when he had a crush on someone (thankfully Coulson seemed an exception) but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe the minimal contact he’d had with Coulson over the years is what stretched the crush out?

Something shifted in Barney’s expression as he watched Clint and his own turned a little softer. “Okay, no more teasing for now, kiddo. But there will be talking later. If not this visit, definitely another, if not Skype first.”

Clint fairly sagged with relief. “Thanks Barn.”

“Yeah, well, I owe you,” his brother grumped good-naturedly. 

They finished their meals in comfortable silence and then lingered over one last coffee each. Most of Clint’s teammates had come and gone before he and Barney finally made their way back to the room Clint shared with Bruce. Barney grabbed his bag, dropped it by the door, and then swept Clint up into another bone crushing hug. 

“Thanks again, kiddo.”

“Anytime, Barn, anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/) if you find this interesting and/or amusing enough to want to chat. Or be inundated at random intervals with pics of Renner and hockey players.


End file.
